


One More Step

by krosevilla



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Mixtape: On Track (Music Video), Childhood Friends, Hwang Hyunjin & Yang Jeongin | I.N are Best Friends, Hwang Hyunjin-centric, Jealousy, Light Angst, Love Triangles, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28165710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krosevilla/pseuds/krosevilla
Summary: Minho keeps his eyes ahead as he casually remarks, "You and Jisung seem to be getting on a lot better nowadays.""Yeah, we get along pretty well now, I guess," is all Hyunjin can say.+Hyunjin has never realized how much he enjoys being friends with Han Jisung, how much he yearns to make him laugh, how much he aches to take that one last step further—all until it might be too late. [A Mixtape: On Track AU]
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Hwang Hyunjin, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 14
Kudos: 114





	One More Step

**Author's Note:**

> hello :D
> 
> this is my very first work so it might be subpar for your tastes, but i truly enjoyed creating this piece and i hope you enjoy readings it as well!
> 
> note: there are very brief mentions of internalized homophobia (blink and you'll miss them)

바보라도 알아

  
  
  


Hyunjin has always admired Minho. 

As someone who has always been unintentionally goaded on by the shallow back-handed compliments of “You’re so good-looking, it doesn’t matter if you’re good at anything else,” Hyunjin can’t help but be driven to perfecting the very abilities that everyone had doubted. The relentless hours of sneakers hitting lamented wood floors and painful aches of overused joints always seemed to be a small price to pay for the satisfaction of proving that he was more than just his face, that he was worth more than that.

But it never grew to be any easier. There were times when he felt he wasn’t getting anywhere, the labels that were stapled to his perceived image too heavy to bring himself to perfect a certain piece of choreography. 

Then Minho strode in, ripped off those labels, and shielded him from the very people who had put them there.

Minho was effortless in his talent. He seemed to live and breathe dance as if it was the very essence of his entire existence, as if it was ingrained into every fiber of his being. 

While Hyunjin had to fight his way to reach the bar, Minho _was_ the bar. He set the standard for what performers should aspire to be. The natural talent, the passion, the emotion, the drive. He had it all—even the face. But people didn’t see him as just a pretty face. They saw him as Lee Minho: gifted dancer. 

To top it off, the man had a heart of gold. Minho didn’t see Hyunjin for his physical features, only for what he did with them. He believed in his progression. He believed that he could push his limits because he had the potential to. 

Hyunjin admired Minho for his talent at first but came to idolize him for his perseverance second. 

Perseverance is one of the key elements in perfecting a skill, and the elder was no exception. Hyunjin came to realize that a talent like Minho’s was one that was indeed second nature, but also saw a fair share of behind-the-scenes practices and failures to know how it came to be as polished as it was to this day. Extra years of experience were prominent in every rhythmic move and sway of well-oiled limbs. 

In the few years he’s known Lee Minho, Hyunjin feels he has a better understanding of the world. The self-loathing that had puppetted him for so long has since dissipated and a more self-assured identity has come to reside in the spotlight. They would never talk about it because that’s not the type of friends that they are, but he has a fair notion that Minho knows nonetheless.

“How’s your knee?” 

“Still bruised, I hate you and your floorwork choreo.” Hyunjin shifts the bag on his shoulder. His scowl deepens when he sees Minho smile cheekily.

“You’re the one who wanted to go full out for every single run-through when I told everyone to just mark it.” He has to glance upwards to meet Hyunjin’s biteless glare. “It’s not my fault you’re always a try-hard.”

If the remark had been from anyone else, or said two years ago, he might have taken offense. Instead, he fakes the annoyance on his face and mouths the words mockingly. Minho copies the unflattering facial expressions back at him.

Hyunjin wouldn’t trade the friendship that they had for any other kind.

“I want to get the first three 8-counts down to muscle memory before next week’s shoot so I have less to worry about.” The taller of the two slips his hands into the pockets of his school trousers as he breathes in the calm scent of the budding foliage lining the campus walkway. 

The looming shadow of the northwest school wing creeps only meters away from their path, so the spring sun beams down on the two with its welcomed heat to combat the slight nip of the season’s last chilled breeze.

Minho’s brow quirks up, mirroring the other’s actions and shoving a hand into his pant pocket. “I think you’ll be okay. We’ve got a good team for this shoot.”

Hyunjin sighs, “Yeah, they’re not bad.” The affectionate simper on his face betrays the attempted nonchalance of the statement. “Except Seungminnie. He’s scary when he’s in director mode sometimes.”

“That’s why Felix is co-director.”

“The way they balance each other out on set is insane.”

“I think it’s because Felix is probably the only one out of all of us that Seungmin wouldn’t beat down without question if lines were crossed.”

Hyunjin huffs out a chuckle. “He would probably beat down Jisung and Changbin-hyung even if they were ten feet _away_ from the line—Then again, Bin-hyung is older and a lot stronger than him, so maybe just Jisungie.”

The older hums in agreement as their strides synchronize to a lazy stroll. There’s a short peacefulness carried by the soft murmur of midday in spring. Minho keeps his eyes ahead as he casually remarks, “You and Jisung seem to be getting on a lot better nowadays.” 

At this, distant memories surface of childish disputes egged on by insecurities that fueled their rivalry. Despite their friend group’s unified efforts to bring them closer together, the manner in which Hyunjin and Jisung had used to butt heads was overdramatic, to say the least. Looking back at those times, Hyunjin thinks of the person that he was as someone else—someone who he has long left behind. 

Regardless of that sentiment, it was only a month and a half ago when Hyunjin had called out Jisung for his constant interruptions during their dance practices. With a rehearsal only four days away at the time, along with the throb from an overexerted ankle, Hyunjin’s patience had been worn thin that day, which only seemed to encourage Jisung’s provocation.

“I’m not even doing anything, I’m just hanging out here.”

“You’re not even on the team, and for understandable reasons. You don’t have to be here.”

Jisung had glared so intensely his ears had flushed a bright red. “Why don’t you just focus on yourself? Because, from what I’m seeing, you should really consider it.”

“Hey, that’s enough,” Minho had said, but his voice lacked the authoritative finality that made Chan’s requests so impossible to disobey. Hyunjin dismissed the eldest’s attempt at intervention as he approached Jisung with a ferocity that only the latter could draw out. He had even shoved aside Felix’s own attempt to stop him from advancing forward, which Hyunjin especially regrets now since Felix’s intentions are always out of the level-headed kindness of his heart.

“How am I supposed to focus with you fucking around and trying to distract Felix and Minho-hyung? From what _I’m_ seeing, _you_ should work on your lack of common sense and have some respect for people who actually have work to do.”

He could tell that the remark got under Jisung’s skin from the way his shoulders heaved with every infuriated breath. Hyunjin readied himself for another snarking bite back, until the studio door swung open and the attention in the room shifted to Chan and Changbin walking in, bags of snacks and water bottles in hand.

The conversation the two were engaged in quickly died off in the face of the suffocating atmosphere the room fostered. Hyunjin remembers the unpleasant sensation he felt under Chan’s steely gaze as soon as the oldest saw the malice in Jisung’s and Hyunjin’s body language.

His voice, though mellow, had filled the room, “What’s going on here?”

Hyunjin had to tear his look away to stare at the shiny floorboards of the practice room in order to spare himself from the disappointed shine in Chan’s eyes, but he had heard Jisung huff out a vexed puff of air.

“Nothing,” the younger mumbled.

The answer didn’t seem to satisfy Chan’s question. “Han Jisung.”

At the firmness of which his name was called, Jisung tensed and mirrored Hyunjin’s leer downwards. There was a moment of strained silence that had seemed to last forever until Chan broke the quietude with a bone-weary sigh.

“Look,” he had said. “I know you guys don’t get along, but this is getting kind of old, isn’t it? You guys can’t do this forever—we aren’t kids anymore. So why don’t you guys just _try_ to work it out? Make an effort. In all seriousness, why don’t you just admit what’s bothering you both so much?”

Jisung had simply spit out, “What’s bothering me? There’s a pretty boy here who thinks that he’s such hot shit, so it pisses me off.”

Hyunjin doesn’t exactly recall why, as the flood of emotions at that time had seemed to drown out a proper recollection, but the statement had hurt in a way Jisung’s words had never hurt before. It had been so thickly laced with disdain and disregard for every bit of hard work Hyunjin put into prying himself from the mold that everyone had shoved him into that he couldn’t stop the tears from rimming his eyes, and he had shoved his way out of the studio in a desperate haste. 

He remembers how hard it was for him to breathe from how upset he was. Guided by his agitated state, Hyunjin had stormed his way halfway down the hall to the nearest staircase he could find and sunk down onto the steps as the sobs finally clawed their way up and out of his throat.

Throughout the overextended run of their bitter affiliation, Hyunjin had never let Jisung’s jabs at his insecurities truly get to him, but that day had been different. That day, he was so overwhelmed with the idea that he wasn’t going to get the choreo for the rehearsal down well enough—and for the first rehearsal where he would be at center during part of the performance. The thought of letting down his instructor, his teammates, and everyone watching kept creeping into the forefront of his mind even after the constant reassurances of his peers.

Worn down mentally and physically, Hyunjin couldn’t help but let the burn of Jisung’s words seep into reopened wounds and tear him up from the inside out.

He had stayed like that, head buried into the hard bone of his knees, for what might have been only a few minutes before the privacy of his breakdown was disrupted by the sound of the staircase door creaking open behind him. Hyunjin made an effort to compose himself as much as he could in the few seconds that it took for cautious footsteps to make their way to his place on the steps and sit down beside him. Without looking up, he could already tell who it was, and it should have made him angry, but the immense feelings of self-doubt and hopelessness had begun to numb him from feeling anything at all. 

“I didn’t expect you to run out like that.” Jisung’s voice was quiet. 

Hyunjin sniffled a bit but didn’t look up. The air was empty where the other had probably expected him to say something, anything, but he didn’t.

“I, um. I’m sorry I said that.”

At that, Hyunjin felt his breath even out ever so slightly. He finally lifted his head to throw Jisung a baffled look. The latter was twiddling at his rings, lips pursed and Hyunjin still can’t get how small and uncertain he had looked out of his head to this day. 

Despite his apparent discomfort with the situation, Jisung continued, “It’s just frustrating. Like, I know that I’m capable and I know that I’m good at things but… When I see you, I just get mad at myself because you just look… Well, you look like you. And it’s easy to get recognition for things when you look the way that you do. Sometimes I feel like, no matter what I do, people don’t see me at all for the things that I’m passionate about. But people always look at you. It’s stupid to say out loud but it’s just not fair.”

The last sentence was uttered in such a hushed and ashamed breath that Hyunjin couldn’t help the way his eyes bore into the side of Jisung’s face. This was the same Han Jisung who had always been so zealous and fervid in his ventures, the same one that would never back down from a fight that he had faith in. But this same Han Jisung had looked so unsure of himself that it pulled sharply at Hyunjin’s heart.

“That’s not true,” he said, the sound of it raw from crying. A crack in his voice drew Jisung’s eyes to Hyunjin’s own. The sheer intensity embedded into his pupils had made the taller rip his gaze down to the concrete landing at the bottom of the steps. 

“It’s not easy for me to get recognition. I’ve lived my whole life being told that I don’t have to be good at anything—that I’m just a face and that’s all I’ll ever be because it’s always going to be the thing that people see in me. No matter how hard I work towards anything, they still can’t see how much effort I put in because all they ever want to do is see me as some _thing_ instead of some _one_.

“And sometimes I can’t even get recognition from myself. You’re so confident in yourself and I wish that I could have that, too. I wish I could be at a place where I can finally say that I’m satisfied with what I’ve done.”

“Well, that’s not true, either,” the younger had muttered, laying a cheek on his knees as he hugged them close. “There are a lot of times where I’m just saying that, you know? I definitely doubt myself a lot, but it’s human to do that. I don’t think you should be so hard on yourself. I really didn’t mean what I said back there about you needing to practice more. I just said that in the heat of the moment.”

The inexplicit apology painted the tips of Hyunjin’s ears in a tingly warmth. His sudden embarrassment had left him momentarily out of kilter, but he poised himself enough to whisper a soft, “I get that.” 

Then, louder, he said, “I’m sorry, Jisung. I think I never really made an effort to understand you.”

Suddenly, Jisung’s lip had quivered and a glossy wetness surfaced over the dark brown of his irises. 

“God, I said such fucked up things to you. I’m really sorry, too,” Jisung lamented, tears streaking down his complexion. 

Hyunjin recalls back at how he had taken Jisung into his arms and let him cry into the collar of his sweatshirt, murmuring faint reassurances into his dark head of hair. Only moments before were they clawing at each other’s throats, but the way that brushing away Jisung’s tears from his reddened face had felt so natural had seemed to wipe away any resentments he could have held onto.

After that day, the two had made efforts to catch up on the years that they had missed as enemies. 

Unlike the unspoken brotherhood that he shares with Minho, Hyunjin often finds himself sharing sappy sentiments of how much Jisung’s friendship means to him. Whether it’s a side comment on how funny the other is, or gushing about how impressive one of their passion projects is, or even a warm palm on the nape as if just to say “ _I’m here_.” Hyunjin is grateful for that dance practice for all of these reasons and more; and he does tell Jisung this, who will always reward the words with a wide smile and a twinkle in his eye.

Dance hall staircase 3 is now a monument to their newly kindled friendship. Sometimes, when Jisung is suffering from a particularly intense day of anxiety, Hyunjin can find him sitting at the same steps where they had poured their hearts out to one another. Those are the days where something fluttery finds its way into his chest because he knows that Jisung had wanted to be found by him.

Minho spares an unreadable glance at Hyunjin’s overextended lack of response, as though he can hear the gears turning in the younger’s head though his statement shouldn’t have evoked such intense thought. 

“Yeah, we get along pretty well now, I guess,” is all Hyunjin can say.

In an instance, the mood shifts in an odd direction. It makes Hyunjin tighten his fists in his pockets and stiffen at the shoulders. He tries to keep his concentration on the neatly swept concrete ahead of them even as Minho seems to nod in a peculiarly graceless manner.

“I never would have imagined that you guys would be so… close.”

The sky is clear from any clouds, but a shadow of something ominous looms overhead. Hyunjin’s strides falter and lose pace with Minho’s. If the other notices, he doesn’t show it. 

“That’s because he couldn’t help but fall for my charms.”

As quickly as it came, the tension lifts with the arrival of additional company. Jisung slides himself in between the two, matching his pace to keep up with their long strides. He seems a bit out of breath but lets out an airy laugh nonetheless. 

He continues, “I was gonna scare you guys but I couldn’t hold that in.”

Hyunjin lifts a brow at the claim but opts out of acknowledging it. “It’s not even noon yet, why are you out of bed?”

Jisung flings himself sideways in mock exhaustion, his hands coming up to grasp at Hyunjin’s forearm as he leans his weight onto him. “Ugh, I know, I think I might die. But my production professor was having optional office hours to review our final project ideas so it’s probably worth me leaving my bed.”

“Aw, poor Sungie,” Minho coos and pets the back of the youngest’s head. “That’s the price to pay for being a teacher’s pet.” 

“Hey, Professor Ahn is freaking rad. I’m not a teacher’s pet, he’s just a saint,” Jisung counters. He lifts his body off of Hyunjin’s side and the latter tries not to miss how reassuring the weight had felt. “Anyways, I’m really hungry. Oh! I think they’re serving honey garlic chicken at the food hall today and I wanna grab one before they run out since it’s Chan-hyung’s favorite and I’m pretty sure he slept in the piano room last night working on some big project.”

Eyeing the disgruntled wrinkle of his nose, the corner of Hyunjin’s mouth quirks up fondly. The younger was surprisingly the most selfless out of their friend group; he would never discount any of their burdens as being anything less than an issue that he felt he had to help with. Others might call it nosy or intrusive, but the unconditional love that Jisung had for the people he cared for was so blatantly apparent in his willingness to lend a hand that none of them would even see his proding as anything but altruistic. 

The current state of their friendship, in particular, has given Hyunjin much more insight into different aspects of Jisung’s personality that he had previously chosen to overlook in a petty act of denying there was anything good about him. 

Today, as he watches Jisung’s small frame walk at his side with his ever-present confidence and characteristic gusto, Hyunjin understands that this is someone that he is grateful to have in his life. It isn’t the same gratefulness as Minho as his role model, or Jeongin as his best friend, or Chan as his mentor. 

It’s an anomaly that feels exhilarating—one that he hasn’t felt in a long, long time, if ever.

“They’re also serving cheesecake today,” Hyunjin says. “I already asked one of the aunties who work in the kitchen to save me a slice for you.”

The way that Jisung gawks in awe at him is worth the nerved sweat gathering in his palms.

“Dude, you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes to mask the heat that inches up his neck. “If you want to flirt with me so badly, just tell it to me straight.”

A mischievous glint finds its way back into Jisung’s eyes. “Well that wouldn’t be very straight, would it?”

The two burst out into a peal of obnoxious laughter. 

“Wow,” Minho says, giving them a look of mild bewilderment. “It’s like you guys are totally different people now.”

Something about him constantly mentioning the sudden change in Jisung and Hyunjin’s dynamic makes the latter’s skin itch.

Jisung, however, simply laughs and says, “You know, if the me from last year saw us right now, I think he’d throw up.”

Hyunjin lets an ugly snort slip out, which stretches Jisung’s lips wider to show the whitened shine of his gummy smile. Months ago, he would never have taken note of the younger’s slightly crooked front tooth, and he certainly wouldn’t have found it so endearing.

A stirring begins to run lazy laps inside his veins, slow and deep and growing, like the pleasant buzz of being intoxicated. The feeling scares him, so he swivels his head back up ahead. The three of them carry on a relaxed conversation about whatever comes to (Jisung’s) mind for the rest of their trip to the food hall. 

Hyunjin keeps ignoring the feeling until it dies down to an almost unnoticeable whisper in the back of his head. 

Before they enter the double doors to the building, he sees Jisung stop briefly to take in one last glance at the horizon. Greens and soft pastels dot the line where the sky meets the charming school gardens. 

It’s beautiful.

  
  
  


+

  
  
  


A cozy warmth pools into the classroom, desk chairs slightly askew from the rush of students in a haste to make the most out of their 50-minute lunch break. There is an occasional clack of school shoes from down the hallway but, other than that, a calming quietness settles. From his place by the window, Hyunjin watches as small groups of students spill out from the building to mingle, weaving around each other like ants on a sidewalk. He turns his attention to his desk as his phone screen lights up with the accompaniment of a tinkling chime.

_Innie <3 _

[12:11pm] _where are youuuu_

_Me_

[12:12pm] _Classroom. I snacked before so I’m skipping lunch to study for eng quiz_

_Innie <3 _

[12:12pm] _aw okay :( ur lame_

[12:12pm] _theyre serving fries with today’s lunch !! bin hyung is like crying rn hehehe_

[12:13pm] _everyone else is here so we’ll enjoy it without u >:0 _

[12:13pm] _oh wait_

[12:13pm] _have you seen sung ??_

Hyunjin flicks his gaze up from the screen. 

With his head laid snugly into the nest of his crossed arms, Jisung is fast asleep draped over the short expanse of his desk. Crinkled paper shifts at every slight movement his slumber subconsciously evokes. Usually-expressive eyes are buttoned closed, the distinct lines of his face relaxed. The sun dances across his soft features as clouds overhead slowly swim across the cyan hues of the clear weather’s day. 

The way Jisung looks burns something fiery in the pit of Hyunjin’s core. 

He barely registers the hand that reaches out to cast dark shapes over pale skin where he denies the light to touch, only centimeters away from reaching down to trace mindless shapes into the fullness of supple cheeks. 

Miniscule specks of dust flutter through the sunlight that warms the room, disappearing under the shadow of his stretched palm caressing the outline of Jisung’s face. Hyunjin almost forgets to blink, as if every fraction of a second that he can grasp of the sight before him is as valuable as the air he breathes. Silhouettes of slender fingers roll down from the arch of his brow down to pass over the few scattered beauty marks on the curve of his cheek and finally slow to leisurely swipe at pillowy lips. 

Hyunjin does blink, but Jisung’s face is even etched into the pitch-black behind his eyelids.

_Me_

[12:15pm] _He fell asleep_

[12:16pm] _But he said that he wasn’t gonna go to lunch eiher_

[12:16pm] _*either_

_Innie <3 _

[12:17pm] _whaaaaat okay_

[12:17pm] _good luck on ur quiz !_

[12:17pm] _don’t do anything i wouldnt do :*_

The last message is unusually cryptic but Hyunjin doesn’t have it in him to decipher its meaning. He places his phone back down on the desk, the tiny sound it makes against hard wood prompting a twitch between Jisung’s brows. He is a surprisingly light sleeper despite the sheer amounts of volume that he can produce at times. 

Hyunjin finds himself constantly surprised by how many of his presumptions of Jisung have been derailed far off track the longer the two grew to know one another, and he concludes that assumptions are to never be trusted when it comes to Han Jisung.

To decrease the risk of making any more unnecessary noises, Hyunjin silences his cellphone before deciding to do the same to Jisung’s, just in case. He picks up the smaller device from under the thin stack of doodled looseleaf pillowing the younger’s arms and flicks the switch on its side with the filed nail of his thumb.

His timing proves impeccable, as the screen suddenly comes to life, vibrating eagerly to alert an incoming call. 

There, behind the slightly scratched surface of the screen protector, is Minho’s name in white block letters and emoji hearts typed out above the contact picture that Jisung had input into his phone. The image shows Minho at what looks to be Namiseom Island, the healthy greens of its breathtaking scenery contrasting against the deep red of his fleece jacket. He has a churro in his grip, looking at the camera with hooded, unamused eyes. From the left side of the screen, the hand of the photographer pinches blunt fingers to form a heart, skin slightly pink from the assumedly chilled weather.

Minho’s brown eyes seem charged with an intensity other than his feigned annoyance. 

He lets the call ring silently around three and a half times before swiping a finger across the width of the screen and elevating the phone within earshot. Before he can even utter a word, Minho’s voice filters through the microphone. 

“Hey, are you coming to lunch? I miss you, you know.” 

Holding his breath, Hyunjin completely stills at the sweet inflection of Minho’s words, colored with saccharine and dripping honey. He’s never heard anything like this coming from his teammate; he’s never needed nor wanted to. 

He then imagines how Jisung would have reacted to it, how he’s probably used to it, and Hyunjin wants nothing more than for that thought to shrivel up and disappear.

“Hello?” Minho calls out. “Jisungie?”

“Um,” Hyunjin finds his voice. “He’s, uh, sleeping. He fell asleep.”

There’s an elongated silence from the other end of the line, but Hyunjin can almost hear the way Minho’s brain short circuits. 

“Oh,” is all he says, even giving off a dull attempt of a laugh. “Sorry, I thought—so he’s not coming to lunch, I assume?”

Hyunjin ignores the way Minho doesn’t ask if he’s going to be going down to lunch either. “Nah, he said he’s gonna stay with me.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”

Another silence, but it’s ear-splitting.

“Cool,” Minho finally replies. “Also, you’re still up for holding a practice room for this Sunday after the prop session, right? Yongbok said he can make it after he looks over the audio with Chan and Minnie.”

Hyunjin nods even though he knows it goes unseen. “Yeah, studio room C, right? ‘Cause you like how it’s closest to the vending machine.”

“Because I like how it’s closest to the vending machine,” Minho parrots, a more genuine smile evident in his voice. “Thanks, Hyunjinnie. I’ll buy you that coffee you like from it once I get there on Sunday. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Yeah, see you.”

  
  
  


+

  
  
  


Soft rays of morning sun halo the fuzzed threads of Hyunjin’s sweater through wide panes of glass as he brisks through the corridor of the school building. It’s empty, the ghost of a bustling school day fresh in the wake of the Saturday’s daybreak. Some classroom doors are slightly ajar from the hurry of students in their haste to enjoy the weekend.

Hyunjin sighs as he wishes he, too, could do just that, but the feeling is brief as he glances at the time on his phone and catches as a string of messages is just received. 

_Jisungie is the most handsome :]_

[10:29am] _I moved to room G cuz the other one smelled like spilled kimchi_

[10:29am] _smelled kinda gross but also got me thinking of food_

[10:30am] _I hope u brought snacks :9_

Making his way past the piano rooms down towards the film hall, Hyunjin almost runs into a garbage bin before he reaches the room. 

He stops midway through reaching for the door handle, then slips a hand into his pocket and checks his appearance through his phone camera. After deeming the loose strands of hair on his forehead as not too big of a deal, he smoothes out his sweater one last time before turning the doorknob.

He doesn’t realize he’s been wearing a smile the whole time until it falls from his face as he registers there are two people at the table instead of one.

Laughter buries the sound of his entrance, Jisung and Minho deep into an amusing conversation. The younger seems to be fiddling with the laptop in front of him, brows knit together as he drolls on about how complicated the video application can be.

“We’re actors! How are we supposed to know how to work this thing? I’m gonna write a lengthy complaint to whoever programs this so it doesn’t work for people who are small brain like me.”

Minho props his head into his hand so his torso is fully facing Jisung as he speaks. “If you would let me help you we probably would’ve been able to watch the whole reel by now.”

Jisung gives a troubled pout, his focus still glued to the screen as he clicks at the mousepad. Minho’s eyes follow vehemently as the plump lip juts out.

“But, maybe I’m wrong,” he continues, still trained on Jisung’s mouth. “It probably is confusing. You’re not ‘small brain,’ you know. Besides, even if you are, small is cute.”

Minho’s words mirror the ones Hyunjin had heard over the phone, candy-sweet and soft on the ears. Except now he actually witnesses Jisung’s reaction to it first-hand. He breaks his attention away from the laptop to meet Minho’s tender stare. A second passes until he moves again.

“Hey, what are you even saying,” Jisung cringes as he lightly pushes at the other’s forearm. The tips of his ears begin to tint a light pink.

The older simply laughs, never averting his gaze even as Jisung returns to playing around with the video player. Minho’s eyes crease at the corners from the sincerity that flickers between the thick lashes of his hooded eyelids.

Hyunjin realizes that he’s been standing in the doorway for far too long as an ache starts to bloom in his jaw from clenching it for so long. Ignoring the other ache that pulses deep within his chest, he makes his presence know by stepping into the room with a heavy heel.

Minho is the first to notice him, and his expression immediately shifts. 

Then Jisung notices him, but he beams instead, eyes widening with excitement. Hyunjin feels the ache begin to dissipate.

“Ah, you’re here!” Jisung grins. “I was just about to text you again.”

Hyunjin notes the way Minho’s gaze flickers from him to the youngest’s downturned phone and back to him.

Jisung continues, “I don’t know what I pressed or what I did but I can’t go back to the reel. I need your big brain.”

“What would you do without me,” Hyunjin huffs before slinging his bag over the plastic backing of the seat he plops down in and making quick work of the video program. His deft fingers grace the keyboard in only a few swift movements until the video reel is back in center of the screen. 

“Woah,” Jisung’s smile is dazzling. “This is why you’re the brains, and I’m the beauty.”

A wave of courage washes over Hyunjin as he quips, “I think we can all agree that I’m both in this relationship.”

Minho cracks his knuckles at that. Jisung feigns a wounded expression.

“Just because you’re prettier than me doesn’t mean—well if that’s the case, you would definitely be my wife. You’re like an overdramatic wine mom.”

Hyunjin blinks. He watches as Jisung processes the words that had come out of his mouth, most likely in light of seeing how heated the taller’s cheeks had become. 

“I mean—,” Jisung pipes, appearing to have flustered himself. “I say stuff like that all the time. Like, you know that you’re pretty. I mean, I didn’t mean—Oh my god, let’s just watch the stupid video.”

With panicked haste, he accidentally shoves at the laptop clumsily enough that it shakes at the contact. He readjusts it before pressing the play button, albeit harder than necessary. 

Whatever was in the air melts away as the reel rolls, clips cutting into the next in the order they were uploaded at Hyunjin’s own doing. The three ease into a casual commentary on their acting or certain angles needing to be reworked or particularly good lighting.

Hyunjin doesn’t take heed to the movement on Jisung’s right, eyes glued to taking note of any glaring disparities on the video quality, and maybe being a tad bit distracted by the youngest’s open laughter and witty remarks. 

The pink that dusted Jisung’s complexion has since vanished by the time the fifth scene is starting. 

“Aw man, I really screwed up my lines somewhere in this take, don’t laugh at me,” Jisung slouches in his seat, arms hanging limply in premature embarrassment. “I’m pretty sure I sounded like I had a stroke.”

“I won’t laugh at you now because I remembering laughing in your face when it happened.”

Jisung gives Minho an affronted curl of the lip. 

“Oh, I also remember! I kept shaking the camera because I was trying to not laugh.”

“You’re both awful.”

“But I’ll probably still laugh in your face when it comes up on the reel.”

Minho gives a light laugh as Jisung begins jabbing at Hyunjin’s arm, the latter overdramatic in the way he cries out at the assault, disruptive enough that they actually miss the clip in the discussion. Their rowdiness subsides to give full attention to the rest of the reel and the trio continues their playful chatter.

“I think Mr. Kang will really like our concept,” Hyunjin asserts. “He really likes to emphasize reworking old concepts and making them fresh. I think we did that pretty well. Especially with your song.”

Minho hums in agreement. “I’ve read the lyrics and they fit Jisung’s character perfectly. It’s really good.”

Jisung seems to glow at this, though it almost goes by undetected, like a distant light through foggy dusk. Blooming on his face is a demure smile that Hyunjin isn’t accustomed to but wants to see more of.

“Of course it’s good,” Hyunjin says. “Jisungie wrote and composed the whole thing himself.”

Minho gives a genuine face of surprise when he says, “Wow, I didn’t even know that.” And Hyunjin can’t deny himself the petty feeling of accomplishment that he itches at the corners of his lips. 

Then, like a swift and unexpected shift in his morals had lashed him straight down the back, he feels sick at the thought of taking pride in making known a fact about Jisung that Minho hadn’t known first. As if Jisung was some part of a competition where the winner took all, where the winner took Jisung like an object to be bartered for. 

Hyunjin can feel him get further away from reality with his growing consciousness of how far he’s spiraled down the rabbit hole. He wonders when he had stopped seeing Minho as a role model and started seeing him as a rival, and when he had stopped seeing Jisung as a rival and started seeing him as something so much more.

His internal crisis is interrupted by Seungmin, Jeongin, and Felix, who clamber into the room with a bag of snacks and their flowery aura. 

“Pick your poison,” Seungmin says as he pulls out a chair between his two companions while placing the refreshments down. The bags are quickly grabbed at by greedily nimble hands from across the table. 

Still ill at ease, Hyunjin feels like he shouldn’t be sitting where he is, like his proximity with Jisung is burying the shame of his objectification deeper and deeper. So he stands up as nonchalantly as he can before making his way around the table to take the vacant spot next to Jeongin. It’s directly in front of the seat he was occupying only seconds prior, but it eases the weight on his chest ever so slightly.

The look Jisung gives him threatens to weaken his resolve.

“Hey, don’t give me that look,” he chides, though his voice comes close to wavering. “I just wanna share the shrimp chips with Innie because you’re allergic. And I wrote down my notes on his script.”

“Okay,” Jisung pouts again, and it does wonders to Hyunjin’s heart. 

The new seat, however, supplies a full view of both Minho and Jisung, which is either a blessing or a curse depending on Hyunjin’s mood. He bites his cheek as he can only assume it to be the latter of the two based on his extant unease.

“Did you guys watch the reel already?” Seungmin asks as they all settle. “Lix and I have already watched it a couple times and we want to go over some things.”

The statement has a finality to its timbre (despite it coming from the second youngest present), and the group begins to flip out their respective copies of the script, though still making sizeable dents in their snack stash. Their idle discussion drones on throughout a good part of the morning. They get through the first three scenes by the time their throats are strained from throwing around ideas on acting redirection and the comical, but insincere, exasperation that is voiced afterwords. 

“I think I’m getting light-headed from all the ink I’ve put on this paper,” Jisung groans.

Hyunjin turns to gauge the reactions from the two directors, though it's difficult to do so with Felix as his head hangs low, shoulders sagged as mental fatigue rolls off its slopes. Seungmin seems to finally give in to the team’s shared worn-out expressions, eyeing the empty snack wraps scattered around the table. “Let’s take a five-minute break then. After the next scene, we’ll pick up lunch.”

Felix drops his head on the table with a concerning thump as Jeongin makes a show of stretching his gangly limbs as far as they can reach. Jisung follows Felix’s example, except the flesh of his cheek takes the brunt of his head’s weight, the impact nowhere near as loud.

“If I knew Seungmin was going to be this passive-aggressive with my acting skills, I don’t know if I would still have agreed to help you brats,” Minho grouches, yet the aforementioned director simply ignores him in favor of continuing his notetaking.

“Don’t lie,” Jisung mumbles, words squished like his cheek. “Knowing Seungmin as long as we have, you definitely knew. You agreed because you couldn’t say no to me when I asked you to help.”

Despite half of it being obstructed by the table’s surface, the brazen grin he flashes still paints Hyunjin with full endearment. 

“You want to bet?” Minho challenges, brows raised. “Ask me if I love you. Go ahead.”

The impish smile disappears in an instant, Jisung straightening up to gape at the rest of their friends but only receiving cackles from Jeongin and Felix in place of empathy. Seungmin is most likely stilling penning at his script, but Hyunjin is too busy feigning amusement to see. It was a joke, anyone would say so, yet Minho directing those three words at Jisung in any context makes him tense up.

It doesn’t help when a baiting smirk graces Minho’s lips and he pinches at the swell of Jisung’s cheek, the other side still a noticeable red from where the table had flattened it. 

“And here I was about to actually thank you for helping us with our project,” Jisung gripes as he swats away the offending hand.

“You can still thank me,” Minho shoots back. “All of you kids.”

He makes an effort to give a pointed look to each of them, eyes silently demanding input on the proposal.

“Thank you, hyung,” Jeongin singsongs, eyes creasing in a way that Hyunjin can easily recognize as mooned with sarcasm. “—for being weak to your dongsaengs and quick to do what we ask you to do.”

Jisung purses his lips in an attempt to stifle a laugh that would have indisputably earmarked him as a target of Minho’s menacing smile. The latter’s eyes crescent to mirror Jeongin’s as he coos back, “Just because you skipped a grade, you think you’re such a smartass, huh?”

“Yes,” is what the youngest has the audacity to reply. It draws out an applause of entertained laughter from the rest; even Seungmin can’t help a tiny huff that escapes his mouth even though his eyes still make no move to leave the pages in front of him.

Hyunjin ruffles at Jeongin’s hair to express his amusement, and the younger beams with pride. He has always been the type to revel in making the group bounce with high spirits, so Hyunjin takes his time to indulge him as much as he can.

Minho makes a quick motion to swipe at Jeongin from across the table, who fumbles to raise his script in front of him as an improvised shield. Jisung bars Minho into his seat with an extended arm in an effort to protect the youngest from his wrath, Felix giggling with glee until Seungmin pulls him back into their directorial duties by posing a query about the next scene to be reviewed. 

While the far end of the table is once again occupied by their responsibilities, Jisung’s playful demeanor dims down to reel their antics back to the initial topic at hand.

“But seriously, hyung,” he says, suddenly looking a bit bashful. It’s as endearing as it is rare on his usually always-confident features. “I really owe you one for doing this for us. Especially since you got asked to make choreo for the post-finals showcase. I know you’re probably busier now because of that.” 

Hyunjin, who is on the same dance team as Minho, didn’t know that.

Minho dons a lopsided grin and replies, “Yeah, but I can handle it. Just make it up to me, okay?” He reaches up to ruffle at Jisung’s hair, their eyes bright, smiles warm in the way they spread across their faces. 

For some reason, Hyunjin feels smaller. It’s as though the interaction unfolding before him is one he shouldn’t be there to see. Like there is an unspoken joke or understanding between the two that Hyunjin isn’t a part of. Looking back, there are plenty of times when he wasn’t included in these little moments between them. Where they made no effort to bring the conversation to a place where his participation was invited, like now, lost in their own world with their sights only focused on one another. 

He wants to look away but there is a force that pulls him to steal every second of Jisung’s glowing skin, the pink tint of his stretched lips, the sharp edge of his jaw. 

Hyunjin feels something heavy press into the very bottom of his chest that lurks and curls and coils angrily.

The two continue their soft banter, the private nature of it apparent as Hyunjin feels a nudge to his elbow. He snaps his focus to the left, where Jeongin gives him a look that he can’t quite decipher; he’s not sure that he would want to. Behind the youngest, he catches the brief moment where Felix looks up from the heavily inked script in his hands at Minho and Jisung and smiles a fond uptick of his lips before going back to Seungmin’s mumbling. 

Hyunjin’s eyes meet Jeongin’s again, the strange expression still present and prominent, then revert back downwards to their shared script. He hears Jisung laugh softly mere seconds later but he doesn’t look back up the rest of the session.

  
  


+

  
  
  


Velcro rips through the air as Hyunjin adjusts the straps of his goalie glove, the noise slightly dull over the whoops and hollers that are characteristic of their group of eight. 

It’s particularly nippy out regardless of how late into the month it is, but the cold goes by unnoticed from the uncontained vigor that the boys display in their rowdy game of soccer—if it could actually be called a game. From the moment they had arrived on the field, each of them had taken turns simply kicking the ball around, players switching alliances depending on which team was winning, and some boys more focused on making the others laugh rather than scoring an actual goal. 

Hyunjin cackles wickedly at Changbin’s poor attempt to bounce the incoming ball off his chest, completely miscalculating where it was to land only to get thwacked in the temple. The face-splitting grin he’s sporting barely contains a fraction of the love that he has for his friends.

His pulse is still erratic from when a handful of them had dogpiled on top of Chan, his ear still tingling from when Jisung had crowed into it with elation at their shenanigans, and his backside still burning hot at the feeling of the other’s body pressed into his own. 

“You guys aren’t even playing seriously!” Jeongin calls out from his station besides the goal. “Can we go soon? I’m hungry!”

The boys all turn to give their attention, still tittering with a collective excitement and energy.

“The maknae is hungry,” Chan declares, eyes squinted and posture straightened in a guise of stoicism. “That settles it then; first team to score gets treated to Mama Chicken by the losing team. Let’s go 3racha!”

He proceeds to dash towards the soccer ball, Changbin and Jisung screeching after him in unison a gleeful “For the maknae!”

Hyunjin watches in delight as Felix follows suit, throwing himself onto Jisung’s back and bringing them both down in the process. Jisung’s limbs are flying sporadically on the way down to collide with the grass-covered dirt. For a second, Hyunjin takes a concerned step towards the two—damn his position as goalie—until Jisung springs up with that ever-radiant smile that immediately calms his nerves. 

Felix rolls around in the field’s turf, eliciting a pleasant burst of laughter from Jisung. The heart shape of his lips is contagious in nature, Hyunjin’s own finding its way back to his face as he drinks in the way the deep navy of Jisung's hoodie contrasts against the bright green of the sod he lays on. 

Suddenly, Jisung’s eyes widen and he points across the field in rising excitement. 

Hyunjin redirects his vision to the direction being gawked at to see Chan dribbling the ball towards him at full speed, Minho and Changbin sprinting after him like madmen with Seungmin jogging half-heartedly behind them. Chan takes a powerful shot at the goal and Felix screams out in anguish—

Until Hyunjin dives leg-first to his left, sturdy palms bracing his fall before his torso hits the ground, just in time to block the ball before it flies into the net and sending it flying back towards the far left of the field. Seungmin makes a better effort to chase after it this time with a wailing Chan hot on his tail. 

Hyunjin vaguely hears Changbin whine out at their team’s failure to score a goal though it’s unclear over Felix’s squealing laughter as he makes Changbin his next unfortunate target. The two playfully roughhouse in the grass up until Jisung finally leaves his place on the ground to pry Felix off his teammate.

Chaos recommences on the field as the two teams continue to try and take possession of the ball. Jeongin and Hyunjin make teasing remarks as they watch their friends, the taller of the two occasionally moving back to the center of the goal when one of the boys gets a bit closer to the net.

It’s the third time around of readying himself for a potential attempt to score when Hyunjin’s eyes lock onto Jisung again.

The wild rush of their friends blurs their silhouettes in Hyunjin’s peripherals and his perspective tunnels in on the brilliance of Jisung’s overjoyed expression. The manner in which his emotions openly flash across his features completely enraptures Hyunjin in every way, providing a poor excuse to be as observant as he is to the gleam of Jisung’s dark eyes and the lines of his face. But Hyunjin knows that he has no need for excuses anymore. 

There’s a reason why he is so enthralled by Han Jisung, his enemy-turned-friend.

“Keep going, Minho!”

Mixed cries of distress and hope pull Hyunjin back to reality seconds too late, the soccer ball bulleting towards the goal by the time he realizes what’s happening. He makes a diligent effort to block the shot by flinging his entire body to the right, but his extended arms miss the ball’s path by mere inches, and it hits the net.

His impact onto the turf temporarily shakes Hyunjin’s head to a dizzying degree. He can hear Felix and Seungmin are rejoicing in post-win euphoria, though he is only able to confirm what he hears a couple of seconds after stilling himself to regain his senses. Changbin and Jisung have collapsed beside one another in defeat, going ignored as Chan is busy being barraged down by Seungmin’s weight on his back. 

“First loser there gets to only pay half what he owes!” Changbin suddenly yells, scrambling up from the ground and darting towards the entrance in which they had initially entered the field. 

“Hey, that’s not fair, you—” Jisung wails as he clambers after him. The rest of the group are still high on endorphins and loudly pursue the two with merriment at a more leisure pace.

Even though he isn’t in any physical pain, the stab at his pride makes Hyunjin wince as he pushes himself off the grass and watches the retreated backs of his friends get smaller and smaller in their hurry to the restaurant. There is one face, however, that is turned back to look down at him.

Minho has a lazy smile draped on when his sharp eyes meet Hyunjin’s. The latter can’t make out the emotions behind the piercing gaze, but he doesn’t get the chance to as Minho turns his back as soon as their eyes connect. Hyunjin feels a tick of displeasure bubble in his chest, blowing out a harsh breath to soothe his growing irritation and ripping his gloves off.

“Are you coming or not?”

Hyunjin looks up to see Jeongin, hand stretched out invitingly. He accepts the help and the younger pulls him to stand upright. 

“Thanks,” Hyunjin sighs while he brushes his slacks and blazer from any dust a bit too aggressively. Once he finds himself free of any visible stains, he glances back up to Jeongin, who is pointedly focusing on the chipping white paint of the goalpost as he frowns.

“I know that look. Just say what you want to say,” Hyunjin grumbles. 

Jeongin side-eyes him before huffing out a weary sigh, hands finding their way into his pockets and staring at where their friends are almost out of sight. 

“I don’t think I have much to say unless _you_ do,” he says.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Hyunjin snaps.

“Jin, come on,” Jeongin groans. He drops his shoulders in exhaustion and finally turns to give Hyunjin a pointed look. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

This just riles Hyunjin up even more, who says nastily, “Can you stop beating around the fucking bush, Jeongin? If you have a problem, just say it. You’re always so blunt about everything that this seems so fucking dumb.”

In return, Jeongin opts out of replying to observe him. The silence is charged with thick aggression and calculation. Hyunjin can almost hear his best friend thinking, seeing right through him, and it unnerves him to the point where he’s just about to storm off before the younger speaks up again.

“Maybe you should talk it out with Minho-hyung instead of just… whatever you two are doing now.”

The sheer mention of the name cracks a dam from the depths of Hyunjin’s patience, and he breaks.

“It’s just—” he starts, scratching at his crown in a budding frustration while his other hand grips at his own hip. “It’s so fucking annoying how he doesn’t even seem like he’s trying but he’s still so much better than me. I’ve worked so hard to get to the place where I’m at now—whether it’s dancing or academics or sports. And then, when I finally feel like I can say that I’m proud of what I can do, he has to one-up me without even breaking a sweat. I mean, I know he’s worked hard too, but there’s just—he just always—!” 

Hyunjin lets out an aggravated growl as he ducks his head down to press a tense palm to his brow. “He’s my friend, my teammate, and I love him. I love him as much as I love the rest of you guys—I even look up to him because he’s _Lee Minho_ , but sometimes I wish he wouldn’t be so—I just get so annoyed because he’s so—so—”

“So close to Jisung?”

Hyunjin stills and takes a trembling breath, the throb behind his temples even more apparent in the sudden quiet granted by his rigid stature. He blinks once, slowly, as the gears in his brain try to digest Jeongin’s words.

He has always known what he’s been feeling the past couple of weeks he’s spent by Jisung’s side, but hearing them out loud as a form of admittance weighs heavy on his shoulders.

The sigh he hears exit his best friend’s mouth is both parts exasperated and tender.

“Minho-hyung hasn’t really made you feel this way before you got close to Sung—I would know, you would’ve told me. Ever since you guys have become friends, you’re different. I know you, Jin. I’ve seen you when you had the biggest crush on the class rep in your first year of middle school and then when you didn’t want to admit your crush on her best friend after the rep got a boyfriend because you thought it would look bad. In my opinion, you’re really obvious.”

The teasing intonation laced into Jeongin’s voice relieves enough tension from Hyunjin’s shoulders for him to pick his head back up without feeling like bile would shoot out of his throat. The dry spread of panic in his mouth is still uncomfortable to the point where he needs to cross his arms to close himself off a bit, but Jeongin’s eyes are kind.

“When you like someone, you’re just different. It’s not a bad thing. I think that it’s kind of fun to watch but… I don’t think this could be described as ‘fun’ anymore…” The younger presses his lips into an understanding smile and Hyunjin feels a burn behind his eyes. “You know, hyung, it’s okay to like boys. It’s okay to like Jisung.”

  
  
  


Hyunjin has always admired Minho, but he’s never wanted to _be_ Minho. He had helped Hyunjin see that there was no reason to try and change who he was for the sake of others— _“Don’t base your choices on what other people want you to be. What do you want to be?”_ —And Hyunjin had just wanted to grow as a dancer, then as a person. He didn’t want to change himself anymore or be somebody that he wasn’t.

There’s a dull pain where these thoughts seem to drift away in the quiet spring breeze as he comes to terms with the fact that he wishes that he was Lee Minho. 

He can’t help but wish that he had spent the years by Jisung’s side as the eight of them had grown up in their quaint little cul-de-sac. He can’t help but wish he was there for him as he grew into his cheshire grin and lithe figure, or wish that he was there when he had gotten his braces off and ate so many candies he was sick the day after. Hyunjin wishes he had been there for Jisung's first time riding a bike, and given him a thoughtful present during the group’s first Christmas, and teased him for crushing on the college girl down the block when they were in elementary school. 

Hyunjin was there during all of those times, but he was never really there for Jisung.

Not like Minho was. 

  
  
  


Suddenly, the lines of Jeongin’s bangs become fuzzy as the burning behind his eyes unfurls and tears begin to race tracks down his face. Hyunjin squeezes them shut in an effort to stop the onslaught of emotions from welling up in his throat, only to let out a guttural cry as soon as he feels a gentle hand rub soothing circles on his back. 

Through the pitch-black, behind dampening eyelids, rounded cheeks frame a heart-shaped smile that shines like the thawing winter sun, teeth slightly crooked in a charmingly imperfect radiance that makes it even harder to breathe. 

They stay like that for a few minutes, Hyunjin's unintelligible voiced regrets mixed in with Jeongin's whispers of _It’s okay, you’re okay_ eventually dulling out until the songbirds can be heard twittering yet again. 

“I’m so stupid,” Hyunjin grits out. “I was so dumb because I never wanted anything to do with him but now—I want to be a part of his whole life. He means so much to me and I missed out on so much because I was so fucking stupid. I was blind, Innie, I was blind and now I’m gonna lose him—” 

He chokes off at another breaking wave of sobs, hard enough to drown out the sweet melodies of the songbirds in the trees overlooking them. The gentle pressure of Jeongin’s wide palm alleviates the panic in Hyunjin’s throat enough to regain his ability to speak again.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” he admits through his sniffles. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well,” Jeongin starts off after a pause, sounding thoughtful, “It’s not like you’re doing any of this to spite Minho-hyung. Feelings are just something you can’t stop sometimes, and I’m sure he'll understand. Like you said, we all love each other—so trust that they’ll understand. It’s important to communicate and not make any assumptions because, as much as we all like to think we know each other really well, you might not be seeing the full picture. You don’t have to straight up _confess_ or anything like that if you’re not willing to, but just have faith that they’ll respect what you’re feeling. ”

Jeongin gives one last squeeze to Hyunjin’s shoulder after the latter composes himself enough to begin wiping his red-rimmed eyes without the threat of fresh tears spilling out. 

“But just remember that their feelings are valid, too. I’ll always have your back but I think you should just keep that in mind.”

Hyunjin doesn’t need to read too far between the lines to understand what his best friend is trying to say. He sometimes feels as if he doesn’t deserve someone as great as Jeongin in his life, and he's thankful. 

  
  
  


+

  
  
  


“Right, so we’re gonna be filming the last scene so I’m gonna need the leads back on set!” Seungmin’s voice reverberates into Hyunjin’s ear and out the other while his hands fiddle with the camera’s weight. The bustle of the set harmonizes well with the careless breeze that drifts through the spring air. It’s a bit past midday so the sun is high but the clouds provide a pleasant filter for just the right amount of warmth over t-shirts and light layers. Despite the day’s lovely essence, Hyunjin feels stuffy. 

“Hyunjin. Hyunjin-ah.” 

He snaps out of his fogged state of mind to catch Changbin looking at him with a slightly stressed wrinkle between his brows. 

“We’re almost done so just hang in there. Let’s get this over with so we can catch the lunch special at Rolli-Kimbap to celebrate, okay?” Hyunjin’s brain has to make a diligent effort to process his surroundings again.

“Yeah, sorry,” is all he says before the two resume their designated tasks to prepare for the shoot. He gently sets the camera back down onto the folding table in front of him, slightly stained from drinking games and late-night snacks, and begins to configure its settings with a well-practiced finesse.

A few minutes pass of the crew discussing equipment placements and scurrying to their proper positions before everything is finally in position to begin filming. Felix and Seungmin are finishing their run-through of the script with Minho, Jisung, and Jeongin, the trio perched against the parapet of the school rooftop, when Felix suddenly changes their plans.

“Actually,” Felix drags out the word as if contemplating his next few carefully. “Could we just get Minho-hyung and Jisung? Since you guys are sitting in a triangle, it’ll be hard to get all three of you in a good shot so we’ll do Innie’s separately.”

The three actors all look to share a similar surprise before Jeongin gives a simple, “Yeah, sure” and then he’s dragged off by Seungmin rolling his eyes at his co-director’s cheeky smile. Said co-director makes some sort of face at the remaining two on set that Hyunjin can’t quite make out from his position behind Felix’s back. All he sees is Jisung purse his lips, eyes downcast as he rubs the railing idly with the crispness of his uniform’s ironed hem, while Minho gives an unimpressed leer. 

A sense of professionalism occupies the set once again as Felix picks up the clapboard and waits for Hyunjin’s cue that he’s ready to begin rolling. The latter watches intently the way Jisung thumbs the neck of the acoustic guitar rested against the metal bars of the railing through the camera. He gives Felix a curt nod before a sharp click of the clapboard breaks the air; the shoot begins.

“So, are you gonna tell her?” Minho recites as he leans on the metal of the railing.

Jisung sighs, putting on a bashful expression. “I, um. I actually wrote her a song. I wanted to ask your guys’ opinions first, though.”

From off-screen, Jeongin adds, “Oh yeah? Let’s hear it.”

Minho turns to Jisung then, brows raised expectedly. They hold eye contact for what is only a few seconds but feels like more— _much_ more. Hyunjin feels the plastic of the film camera threaten to bend under the pressure of his tightened grip.

“Just don’t laugh at me,” is muttered under Jisung's breath as he finally picks up the guitar at his side and leans against the railing as he positions slightly calloused fingertips to the strings.

Behind him, Hyunjin hears someone turn on the pre-recorded audio of the Jisung’s song, the timed beat of the metronome counting down the seconds until the track officially starts. After the fourth tick, Jisung begins to tap out the remaining in the eight-count before he strums his guitar with practiced ease and lets the backtrack of the vocals guide his own to the careful craft that is the song’s lyrics.

“Will you tell me a little ‘bout yourself,

You, who I see from some ways afar,

I don’t want to just watch here by myself.

Yeah, just tell me about you.”

Charming notes strummed from the guitar’s worn-in strings blend beautifully with the brightness of the song’s pleasant tune. Jisung’s low vocals swim like a zephyr down Hyunjin’s back and settle warmly in his chest. 

“There, I can see you walking from afar.

I approach you fearlessly and ask you who you are,

In the quiet tunnel, you’re a sports car; the noisy engine blaring real hard.

Walls that were once colored black are all colored by you, 

I’m surprised by what these new feelings are.”

The lyrics are not meant to paint Hyunjin’s situation, he’s well aware. Despite this, they elicit overfond memories of Jisung’s boisterous laughter, sharp to the ears and just as contagious. They bring about the realization of how much more colorful his life is now that Jisung has propelled his merry way into it without any regard for the rocky path the two of them had bled through to get here. 

“Name, age, where do you live

I know it’s too many questions, I know I’m being rude,

I will cross this line just for a little,

Now that I’ve escaped this unsteady route,

I’ll look at you and take a break. 

For our first meeting, how I’m acting is a disgrace.

I know I’m rambling words at a noisy pace, this is also my first time feeling this way.

“I’m not used to it, babe.

What am I saying, why am I like this?

My heart’s pounding, babe,

Even though I’m trying to keep this bliss.”

Hyunjin recounts the efforts he had made to rekindle any hope for a healthy friendship with Jisung, or how he barely had to make any efforts at all. There were so many instances where Hyunjin had felt as if he was ruining whatever was blossoming between them, as if his words were being balled up and spilled out his mouth in embarrassingly nonsensical babbles, but the younger had just picked them back up and made them work. 

Being with Jisung was so easy. Like Hyunjin ripped off a tattered blindfold to finally see what had been in front of him this whole time. And now that his eyes are wide open, Hyunjin’s heart pounds raucously in spite of his attempts to keep everything bottled in.

“Voice trembling when I’m speakin’, awkward gestures I’ve been makin’,

Loudly for no reason, even if you talk to me…

“I can only speak like this, even when I pretend to be bold.

When I look into your eyes, I still ice up like it’s freezing cold. 

All of these things are foreign to me, even the emotions that I hold.

They’re all for the first time, my heart flutters, and I treat them like they’re gold.”

Recollections edge their way into the forefront of his mind of the very first time Hyunjin had seen Jisung after realizing his newfound affections. He had been distraught, frozen in place with the growing fear that his whole life was breaking apart and coming back in mismatched pieces. That day, he had sat on the cold steps of dance hall staircase 3, short of breath and with a quiver in the hands pulling at his hair. But then Jisung found him, wiped at his tears, and held him close even after being screamed at to take leave. His persistence only deepened Hyunjin’s fall into the abyss that was Han Jisung. The morning after, Hyunjin woke up with puffy eyes and a lighter chest, deciding that he could let himself keeping falling no matter Jisung’s gender.

“Through the crowd of faceless people, your silhouette is shining bright.

It’s getting clearer and clearer, closer, not far off in my sight

Now you’re all I see, I reach my hand out to yours

Hoping that I’m not standing alone on this road of thorns.

I don’t wanna have to eat by myself anymore.

Hope I don’t make no assumptions, as I walk this path on the floor,

I’m walking on the heaven, this moment where I’m tremblin’,

Feeling comforted and I think that I finally found my salvation.”

Hyunjin has always known that his friends can be as wonderfully talented as they are, but there’s something about the ease in which Jisung hits his high notes and fluctuates between his chest and head voice back to a natural rap flow that waters the ever-growing adoration Hyunjin has for him. 

It’s only then that Hyunjin realizes his disregard for the whole other actor who should also be being filmed. He zooms out the camera’s focus with a balanced turn of the wrist to capture both boys in the frame. 

“Don’t have a clue about you but

I’ll take my time to get to know you slowly and steadily no matter how long it’s gonna take.

I wish that we could get a little closer, if only bit by bit,

I act bold on the outside but, on the inside, I can feel every part of me shake.”

Minho’s expression is raw and open, the sentiments scripted across his face easily distinguishable amongst the sharp cuts of his bone structure. His eyes dance around to follow every movement of Jisung’s charismatic performance without a remote hint of shame. It’s apparent that the world isn’t as terrifying to him as it is to Hyunjin. As if there aren’t knowing eyes and a pointed camera focused on the pair, watching their interaction with a dense and suggestive atmosphere. 

“In my empty heart, the first spring’s at the door; 

It’s found its way and bloomed a flower in my very core.

If you think I’m too much, I’m sorry, but 

I’m like this because I’m afraid that I won’t be able to catch you ever again once today is no more.” 

Clement weather and the first leaves of the season on formerly barren trees bring about a romantic air to the set. The song's heartfelt lyrics only further the intimate ambiance. Hyunjin flicks his focus away from the camera display to take in the scene with his own eyes.

Jisung and Minho look like a couple.

“Not used to it, babe.

What am I saying, why am I like this?

My heart’s pounding, babe,

Even though I’m trying to keep this bliss.

“Voice trembling when I’m speakin’, awkward gestures I’ve been makin’,

Loudly for no reason, even if you talk to me…

“I can only speak like this, even when I pretend to be bold.

When I look into your eyes, I still ice up like it’s freezing cold. 

All of these things are foreign to me, even the emotions that I hold.

They’re all for the first time, my heart flutters, and I treat them like they’re gold.”

The chorus illuminates the air with the potential joys of chance meetings and falling in love. That being as it is, there is no need for an explanation in the way Hyunjin’s heart leaps wildly at the sudden eye contact that Jisung holds with him as the last few lyrics leave his lips.

“I just want to get to know you more.”

A deep thrumming begins to reverberate throughout Hyunjin’s veins. He _does_ want to know more—he wants to know everything about Han Jisung, but their time feels limited though it hasn’t even begun. The uncertainty coursing between them is something that he doesn’t believe is one-sided from the way Jisung’s eyes zero in on Hyunjin’s own in a fleeting moment.

The deep black of Jisung’s irises is akin to a black hole that threatens to pull Hyunjin in and never let go. But Hyunjin knows that he’s the one who might never be able to let go.

Jisung plucks the guitar strings one final time as the song ends. He turns to look at Minho, and the stars that float in Jisung's eyes are the same as back in the film room, the same as their interrupted strolls from dance practice, the same as how he has _always_ looked at Minho. But, they’re also the same ones that shimmered when Hyunjin had woken him up from his nap in the classroom with his favorite bread from the convenience store down the block, when Hyunjin had called out to him from the entrance of the food hall so they could walk in together, when they had melted into the soft turf, limbs still tangled, after group dog piles and bubbling fits of laughter. 

Hyunjin watches intensely through the display as Jisung’s eyes become quizzical, darting across Minho’s sharp features, searching for something that Hyunjin isn’t sure of. Hyunjin follows his line of sight to Minho and clenches his jaw. Minho has a dazed expression, as if the fact that they’re filming has escaped his mind completely. Even through the video, the pair has a potent tension between them that carries a million unspoken words. It’s almost suffocating.

From his left, he hears Seungmin mumble softly to no one in particular, “Did Minho-hyung forget his line?” 

Hyunjin knows the script. He knows that Minho is supposed to smile at Jisung proudly, fondly, before praising his performance for the amazing piece that it is—and it truly is. And he knows that Minho would never forget a line, because Lee Minho is a perfect performer. So when Hyunjin sees this supposed perfectionist lean forward and reach out for Jisung’s face, he feels as if his entire world is whirlwinding around him in a battering storm that’s threatening to destroy everything in its path. A hopelessness begins to settle in the bottoms of his soles while he watches, leaving him frozen in place, as the scene in front of him unfolds and he can’t even bring himself to look away as much as he wants to. 

It’s only when he hears Felix whisper a soft, “Oh my god,” that a thread in him snaps.

Every painstakingly sweet moment Hyunjin has witnessed bloom between Jisung and Minho has coiled his feelings tighter and tighter behind his ribcage until this very moment, where they’ve curled so densely into themselves that he can feel it begin to swing his whole life off-balance. 

The only option he has left is to fall and crash.

The thundering of Hyunjin's heart keeps pace with his quick strides. It’s almost deafening, but his hearing seems to fade off as his eyes zero in on the hand reaching out to soft hair, then as they zero in on _Jisung_. 

Jisung, who was a stubborn thorn stuck in his side for years until realizing that this thorn was attached to a rose, sweet in scent and bold in beauty. Jisung, who had shown him the joys of late-night movie marathons when all their friends had gone away for winter break, banishing the bite of the season’s frigid air with a radiant coziness bundled in fleece blankets. Jisung, who had shown up to the dance studio one night knowing Hyunjin had been dancing for countless hours on end to feed him homemade kimbap, falling apart at the seams but perfect nonetheless because _it was Jisung_.

There are blurred faces in his peripheral that he faintly recognizes as Jeongin's, realization widening his eyes as he witnesses the determination in Hyunjin’s steps, and Felix’s freckled features scrunching in confusion, but Hyunjin can’t stop himself—can’t stop his desperation to do something before it might be too late. His hearing fades enough to barely register his name being called out by one of the boys. He doesn’t know who. He doesn’t care.

His grip on Jisung’s wrist is firm, its pressure trying to scream out everything that Hyunjin hates about the situation and imprint it into the other’s skin, but also so desperately careful at the same time though shaking in his distress. He keeps his eyes averted even as he registers from underneath the billow of his eyelashes that Minho is looking up at him with shock-parted lips. 

Time feels still. There is an echoing silence that rides through the balmy spring breeze. 

Hyunjin finally picks his head up, heart pounding at the burning looks he feels pierce into his back, the blistering heat of Minho’s stare seeping into the depths of his very being. For a millisecond, he regrets it—everything from agreeing to this project idea to letting his feelings progress so far as to bring him to this very moment. But when he finally meets round, astounded eyes, any ounce of guilt that had held him back bleeds out of him like a dam bursting under pressure. Jisung’s intense gaze seems to ask him thousands of questions.

For now, Hyunjin doesn’t know the answers to any of them, but he’s willing to try and find them.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for making it to the end!
> 
> as my first work here, this piece will always hold a very special place in my heart, so i want to thank u for being a part of it! feedback is greatly appreciated—whether it be things you liked, things that stuck out to you, or even things you didn't like (my sister has been very vocal on her anguish over the open ending and i have the bruises to prove it)
> 
> the translation of han's 'close' was taken from multiple sources and i had actually reworked it to be performable—basically, i made an english cover of the song and i question my existence as to why every day :,,,)
> 
> anyways, thank u again for reading and i hope to see u all in the near future !
> 
> feel free to hit up my [cc](https://curiouscat.me/krosevilla) !


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